


Death and Axes

by Entropy House (AnonEhouse)



Category: Drake's Venture (1980)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crack, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-10
Updated: 2012-10-10
Packaged: 2017-11-16 01:23:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/533929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonEhouse/pseuds/Entropy%20House
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if there really had been a conspiracy on San Julian? Not the one Thomas was tried for, but a small conspiracy created by slightly drunken crewmen who hated to see a good thing wasted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death and Axes

(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)

For a conspiracy you really do need more than one person. The conspiracy on San Julian started out small, with two disgruntled seamen talking over their dinner of weeviled biscuits and greasy penguin brisket.

They looked on with envy as the Captain General dined on silver with the condemned, who smiled and poured the wine as if he were the host. " 'tis a sinful waste, George, that it is," the bigger man muttered.

"Aye," his companion whispered, while morosely picking splinters out of his hands. "Good Master Doughtie chose the wrong buttock to pat, methinks."

The big man shrugged. "Thinkest thou the wearin' of tight ruffs do make a gentleman lacking in common sense?"

The other nodded. "And all that Italianate tomfoolery. Goes to 'is head." He giggled. "And gets his 'ead chopped off."

The big man looked down at the freshly sharpened axe leaning against the wooden platform they were using as a table. "I'll do 'er quick as ever I can." He sighed and drank more of the rough spirit Drake had allotted him, as his payment for the deed he would do. He wondered if perhaps the Captain General had wanted him to be the worse for drink and botch the job. "Such a waste," he said mournfully. "Had Master Doughtie but come to us, or t'other of the lads, we would have made him right welcome and naught be said about it. Any fool could see the Captain General's not one to play the game and forget in the morn."

"Aye." His friend sighed. "Ned Bright's to be made a captain for _his_ day's work with that slick tongue of his. And the sum of it is that I will have to do all the carpentry, and still only be his 'prentice. Me that has more skill in my little finger than Bright in his whole sneaking body. I worked in the theatres, and learned all sort of clever fittings. I could make the sweetest traps ye ever saw. 'Twas like magic..." His voice trailed off into silence. He grabbed the bigger man's ragged sleeve. "John, a thought has come into my mind."

***

The axeman took the coin Doughtie offered and tucked it away in his shirt. He waited for his moment, nervously. There was a CRASH and flash down the beach, rousing the penguins into awkward waddling flight to the sea and causing all the assembled Englishmen to look in that direction. The axeman whacked Doughtie over the back of the head with the flat of his blade, and kicked the recessed lever George had installed the night before which flipped the platform over to reveal the corpse of Oliver who'd been killed by the savages and was now dressed to match the unconscious gentleman lying inside the platform. With a grunt, John whacked off Oliver's head, spraying the bladder of penguin's blood that had been tied inside the corpse's shirt all over everything.

Drake picked up the bloody head and boasted. John trembled and was glad of his hood. He didn't want to meet Drake's eyes. If it hadn't been for the drink, he would have never dared to risk disobeying Drake.

***

George stamped down the last damp spadeful over the two bodies, Oliver's and the effigy made of rags wrapped in a winding sheet. He whistled cheerfully as they returned to the ship. Drake never went into the far ends of the holds. He would never find their pet gentleman.

Long, weary months later, Doughtie stood on the dock in London harbor, blinking at the sunlight, hazed though it was from smoke, and bid his farewells to George and John. He could never again be a London gentleman, lawyer and courtier, not without revealing the unsavory secret of his survival. He sighed. Still, he had his share of the wealth of the voyage, and perhaps the quiet life would be pleasant. He tied the last strap down on the mule carrying his fortune, and set off, heart lifting as he gave praise to God.

Douglas Thomas would surely do well in Wales.


End file.
